


Echoes of Absence

by sunaddicted



Series: 007 Games Fics 2k20 [9]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Post-Mission, Serious Injuries, Tension, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: Q’s insides churned, wondering when James’ attitude would change - how sour things would turn when the real entity of the damage was revealed to them.Wondering about when exactly their lives would be forced to change and keep up.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: 007 Games Fics 2k20 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794529
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Echoes of Absence

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Free Space of the Angst Prompt Table - I chose "injury" as a theme!

_Echoes of Absence_

Q put his headset down more slowly than necessary, fighting against the subtle tremor in his wrists that was trying to take over his whole body in a rather uncomfortable earthquake that generated somewhere deep in his marrow, the vibrations travelling along nerve endings and ligaments until they showed up in his wrists and fingers, clutched tight around the hard plastic.

It had been a close call.

Q watched on his screen as 007 was safely ensconced in the belly of the medevac helicopter that he had promptly sent to the agent’s coordinates as soon as he had requested for it - that fact alone, hearing the man utter the request in his earwig, had been enough for Q’s blood to freeze in his veins: Bond was infamously known for dismissing the worst of wounds, seemingly endlessly resistant to pain, blood loss and shock.

He couldn’t even start to imagine what kind of injury would have pushed past the man’s notorious resistance and nonchalant attitude towards life-threatening conditions. Q saw that the agent was safely evacuated, eyes and ears straining to catch any little warning sign of anything or anyone trying to run interference with the retrieval, and then he had handed off the tail end of the mission to R, incapable of staving off any longer the crash of adrenaline that had been looming over him fo a few minutes now.

Q needed to breathe - to get out of Q-Branch, out of MI6… out of London and into the safe haven of his home, ideally.

But he couldn’t - not only because he was the goddamned Quartermaster but because what was the point of going home if the other man wouldn’t be joining him there? Depending on how bad his injuries turned out to be, the medevac would either get him to a hospital somewhere out of the danger zone or the agent would be flown back to England, where Medical would take him in for however long it would be necessary - in any case, James wasn’t going to come back to their messy and dusty flat any time soon.

Q had always known that something like that could happen, especially when it came to the other man: James had always been far too reckless with his life than he liked to think about but still, the knowledge that the other man could get seriously hurt - and that death might not even be the worst fate to befall the agent - had always been a steady presence at the back of his mind, tucked somewhere in his brain together with all the automated responses of his body.

He finally unclenched his fingers, the headset coming to rest on his desk with a barely there thud - the vibrating of his phone a few inches away was louder and Q absentmindedly picked it up, thumb swiping across the screen as he listened to R’s soothing and steady typing - hearing straining to pick up any telltale faltering in her rhythm, just in the case he would need to step in quickly to help her; it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her - he did, with his life and those of the agents - but the simple truth was that two sets of hands working on a problem always were faster and better than one alone. 

The notification sat in the middle of the screen, innocent and uncaring of the fact that the number it displayed was enough to make his blood slow down further, flowing colder and colder in his veins; had he been more inclined to flights of fancy and poetic imagery, Q would have compared the feeling to ice piercing through veins and flesh, growing outwards from the inside of his body in the gruesome attempt at turning him into the kind of translucent sculptures that one would expect to find in a Winter Wonderland display.

Q shuddered despite the thick wool of his sweater - it had been one of the first gifts James had ever given him, in lieu of the nth gun that he had lost out in the field; he had been furious back then, fingers twisting cruelly in the expensive textile while he ranted at the agent for being too careless with his equipment - now it only reminded him of the man’s shiteating grin and of the warmth of his chest against his back whenever they cuddled close on the couch in the evenings, their breaths sharing in the fragrant scent of freshly brewed tea.

“I’ll be right back”

“Don’t worry, Quartermaster: I have everything in hand”

He nodded, an absentminded smile on his lips as he clutched his phone more firmly and swept up his mug from the mess of cables and hastily scribbled notes it had ended up nestled into, shoved away in a moment of tension when he had needed more clean space for his mind to calm down and keep its focus on the mission unfolding in his ears and on his screens “I’ll be back in a few”

“Take your time, you deserve a break”

Did he though?

Q shook his head at himself in an attempt at dislodging the wave of guilt he could feel incoming from the depths of his belly; he had done everything he could, Q was aware enough of his talents to recognise when he could have pushed more and when he had given his all - which he always did, no matter who was the agent under his guidance. As he quickened his pace, the wan smile still was in place for the various minions and interns who congratulated him - sure, the mission had gone fine: the villainous plan of the day had been foiled, no civilians had been dragged into the fray and 007 was alive.

_But at what price?_

He flexed his grip on the phone, the answer already in his device in the shape of a message from the man himself; Q wondered whether the injury was so bad that James hadn’t wanted to speak of it over the comms, nurturing the vain hope that he could fake his way back into active duty with a bit of acting on his part, supported by Q’s hacking - presuming that James would come to him asking for such a thing. Not that Q would ever rumour such a request: he knew better than anyone else that James hadn’t been fit for active duty in a long time and he wasn’t Olivia Mansfield, he wouldn’t help the man he loved chase the adrenaline rush until… well, until he dropped dead somewhere, buried far out in the desert or swallowed whole by a tropical jungle or crushed by glass and steel crumbling on his head.

No, he loved him too much for that and he would rather lose him and know him to be still alive than aide him in his reckless need to be out there and do something when he had already done more than enough.

Q firmly closed the break room door behind his back, twisting the knob without any remorse: people could do without coffee and tea for ten minutes and if they really were that desperate, they always could send an intern for a coffee run - they always were so eager to get out in the open air, unused to staying so much time in the artificial neon-bright midday of Q-Branch. He needed space and that was the best he could get without literally clocking off and walking out, as far away as possible from Headquarters.

He set the phone on the counter, face down even if it was a futile measure considering that the message had already reached its destination and couldn’t exactly mock him further from the blackened screen - still, Q wanted to push as far away as possible the moment when he would have to open it and face the truth. He focused on making his tea instead, going through the motions methodically and wishing they stored some loose-leaf varieties so that he could have wasted a little more time; alas, quantity over quality was a motto that had been tacked on to coffee and tea in their line of work and the only thing the people in charge of storing the pantry cared about was to deliver the maximum caffeine possible in the fastest and easiest way - Q loathed it but it did do the job of keeping him up and running so, he didn’t wrinkle his nose too much at it and dumped more sugar than he preferred to in the brown sludge to make it more bearable.

In his head, James teased him for being a fucking snob.

Q sighed and sat down by the counter, flipping the phone on its back; he could wait until his tea became of the right temperature to drink without burning his mouth or even until he was done drinking it, only meagre dredges left at the bottom that wouldn’t have been nearly enough to read the future in if someone had wanted to - but James would just get suspicious.

_If he even was still conscious._

I can’t feel one of my legs -JB

One… he couldn’t feel one of his legs - was that a good sign? A bad one? Q didn’t know much about anatomy, he just was sure that not being able to feel a limb or more generally was linked to spinal damage and what he knew about it was that… well, recovery was hard - impossible sometimes.

What happened? -Q

Blow to the lower back -JB

That doesn’t sound good -Q

I know -JB

They wanted to check me in a hospital to get some preliminaries tests done -JB

WantED? -Q

You turned them down? -Q

It’s not a matter of life or death, I can be moved to London -JB

I can even limp -JB

What a fucking… Q pursed his lips, glaring at the messages in the hope that the man could feel the heat of his gaze through the aether. How could he be so irresponsible?! The damage was nothing to scoff at, it would at least take surgery and rehabilitation and… he didn’t really know what else but it wasn’t something James was going to bounce off from as breezily as he did a gunshot.

Q -JB

Breathe -JB

Shut up -Q

Make me -JB

;) -JB

Was that an emoji? You must be on the good drugs -Q

I’ve been on better ones -JB

Don’t worry, alright? We’ll figure it out -JB

It’s just a leg, the important bits are still working -JB

How do you even know that? -Q

Maybe just sensing your annoyance at me makes me horny -JB

Kinky -Q

Go to sleep -Q

If I have to -JB

You do -Q

Fine -JB

I love you -JB

I love you too -Q

Q’s insides churned, wondering when James’ attitude would change - how sour things would turn when the real entity of the damage was revealed to them. 

Wondering about when exactly their lives would be forced to change and keep up.


End file.
